


Misdirection is an Art

by kuro49



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M, neal has tons of emotional baggage, past Neal/Kate - Freeform, peter is peter, post S1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s like turning on the lights, never minding that it hurts, and exposing all that you’ve got hidden in the dark.</p>
<p>Or the one where Neal finds that Kate may not be the one after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misdirection is an Art

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of feeeeels.

It doesn't happen one day, it happens on a gradual scale that slowly tips.

And if Peter hasn't been the Peter that caught Neal twice in one lifetime, he wouldn't have noticed. Or perhaps, if it has been anyone else and not Neal trying to play charades, Peter wouldn't have noticed at all.

Because Neal is good, and Peter does just as well, matching him wit for wit, pulling him in for every time he tries to push away, they stand at a stalemate.

Waiting with baited breath for the final push that leads everything hidden to spill over into the light.

 

Vocal, in ways he has never been, Neal moans out, too loud. He flutters his dark lashes up at him, all wistful and gentle. Lips parting in a perfect circle, eyes half-lidded in darkened lust. His silver tongue already articulating Peter's name in ways he knows he loves, a low rumble on the last letter r, like he is biting his name apart on the tip of his tongue.

And like a fish being reeled in by the lips, Peter doesn't pretend it doesn't get to him when Neal up plays the pleasure on his face and cants his head back to expose his throat, all vulnerability and want too obvious for a man with a million secrets and more.

While Neal can act like he is just a good fuck (and he is, but that isn't the point here, Neal is a romantic, casual sex is not worth the consequences that this will bring,) he is smarter than that, they both are.

Still, Peter continues to give him all that he can, with or without Neal's belief that he deserves any of it. Because Neal is worth it in Peter's eyes, worth so much more than he believes he deserves. So neither of them stops, and the hole they are digging only ever gets bigger and deeper.

 

Peter doesn't make the first move.

In his position, you can't make the first move and expect a fair endgame. He gives Neal equal footing and unrequited time, allows him a choice in the making and breaking of another relationship between them. Peter smiles when he thinks Neal isn't looking, stares a little longer when he thinks he doesn't notice.

It all builds up between the two of them until Neal pieces the entity of how he feels into something that explains why he does what he does and why he does anything at all for him.

It isn't initiative; it is more of another misdirection in planning. The first time they kiss, Peter knows Neal is indulging him.

Giving him a taste of what he is and that he is still a con man worthy of his time. Peter lets him get away without giving anything else away, lets Neal believe he has the upper hand if only because this has nothing to do with winning or losing. If only because Peter likes the feel of Neal's lips pressing over his, mouth twisting into a smile that is promising him so much more.

 

He comes out of the shower to Neal still lying in bed, legs stretching out to tangle with their dirty sheets. Peter sits down at the edge, mattress dipping beneath his weight just as Neal turns his body towards him. And it is both a sentiment that swells in his chest and an instinct that he supposes Neal has been conditioning into him throughout their years of chase-me-not.

So when he leans down to press a kiss over Neal's forehead, he murmurs a soft _love you_ like this isn't the first time either one of them has finally admitted to the hearts sewn into the cuff of their sleeves.

Except Peter feels Neal freeze up beneath the touch of his lips.

And it is near fractional but the scale has tipped.

"Peter," Neal answers in a rush, seconds too late to implicate that things are fine and if this is the best he's got, something is indeed horribly wrong with the way he sounds breathy and strained all at once, "me too."

He pulls back slowly to see a wild eyed Neal that is almost looking helplessly back at him but then he is out of the bed, nearly tripping over the sheets to get away.

"Neal," he doesn't get up from the bed, he doesn't try the lock. Peter only calls out when the bathroom door has closed after the con man and the silence is loud enough to leave them both dreadful in their skin, "you're running out of convincing lines to feed me."

He doesn't know whether he hears him at all.

But neither does Peter see Neal leaning back against the door with a hand over his mouth, heart hammering something almost painful in his chest. He doesn't need to. Neal has always known that his redirection can only get him so far but he has promised Peter the truth, and while he can get away with white lies, there's only so much distraction he can create out of thin air.

And there has never been any other way than to misdirect Peter's attention from the empty hole where his heart should be.

 

The first time they go further than a quick fumble of curious hands and half amused kisses, Neal is desperate.

The air is cold and wet when it happens, merely two weeks after Kate's death. There is still snow on the ground when he pushes Peter back against the wall of his apartment. His hands are trembling, his breathing ragged and when Peter drops a hand on Neal to steady, his muscles are pulled taut with strain beneath his fingertips.

Neal is biting and sucking a dark bruise over Peter's skin with abandon, deft fingers already working his belt halfway off. And Neal is a devastating sight, frenzy with his kisses, frantic with his still shaky hands like this is all too much and not enough at all.

Gently, Peter pulls him back, pausing Neal in his sad and silent rage at a world without Kate. He opens his mouth to tell Neal that this is unfair in a way that he will never be her replacement, wrong in a way that this can't be how he grieves her death.

For a fraction of a second, Neal looks torn, baring his broken heart at Peter like there is nothing left. _Don't deny me this too_ , he seems to be shouting when all he gets out is a near silent and hoarse "Peter."

And then Peter lets his own hands drop down to Neal's hip and waist, giving him all that he wants, if only to soothe the pain wallowing like tears in those eyes.

 

Neal doesn't actively avoid him, and Peter doesn't play pursuer, they are both smarter than to let it cross the subtle line. Jones keeps to himself, Diana doesn't ask, and Hughes doesn't seem to notice. Still, it keeps them both on edge, stumbling around each other when they are supposed to be at their best, standing next to no one else.

It takes another week and a half before Peter has him trapped in his apartment, resignation in his eyes. And he misses him in ways he never imagines he can. But before he can even open his mouth, dropping all suspicion and defence to plead, Neal tries to make a break for the balcony.

"Neal, talk to me."

He catches him around his wrist and pulls him back. Cupping his cheeks in his hands to guide the man to look at him when all he knows is how to run. Peter grounds him in ways nothing else in the world can. And when he finally glances his way, he looks wounded as though he hasn't slept well in a very long time, like he has been picking up bones from the mud, fingers brown and wet.

"Please, Neal."

Peter isn't above begging, and Neal can see that too.

He gently pulls back, away from Peter's tender hold, and just as Peter thinks he will run again, Neal pauses by the balcony door, face turning to the sun. New York's native breeze catching his hair and finally takes the words from between his lips.

A reluctant admittance that takes his all to keep down.

"I can't remember her face."

"…Kate's?"

"Do you know what that means?"

He asks with his hands clenching around the frame of the balcony doors like he doesn't know what to do with them other wise. Peter can tell he is closed to heaving, except he hasn't eaten all day, he knows that too. Peter waits, gives Neal all the time he needs, and when Neal finally whirls around—

Peter hurts to see Neal's lips pulling into a small grimace of a smile to ask again.

"Do you have any idea what this means?"

"…It means you've forgotten about her." Peter is reluctant to offer.

And with the New York sun behind him, Neal looks as though he is glowing a red-orange when he gives him a shake of his head. Peter watches as he takes a deep breath to settle his nerves, except when he finally speaks, Neal sounds like he is in near-perfect hysterics.

"It means I love you."

Neal isn't a man for fear but love has a habit of changing everything you used to be. (It makes you want to be a better man, _try_ even when you know you are born with bad blood in your veins.) Peter is the one that makes him want to fight the good fight, admit his worst even when it hurts.

Neal lets Peter pull him into his arms.

XXX Kuro


End file.
